


Stars Shining Bright

by DopeyTheDwarf



Series: Marvel Polyship Bingo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depersonalization, F/F, F/M, Laura Barton needs a hug, Laura Barton-centric, Marvel Polyship Bingo, Multi, Postpartum Depression, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DopeyTheDwarf/pseuds/DopeyTheDwarf
Summary: Laura takes in a deep breath, just relishing how easily her lungs fill today. Clint’s breath tickles her neck, and she amazes herself when she snorts with laughter. Their legs are tangled together, and Clint only moves closer every time Laura tries to squirm away. Tasha is on the far side, but her pinkie is hooked with Laura’s, and the baby monitor is clutched tightly to her chest.Laura curls deeper into Clint’s embrace, and she kisses Tasha’s knuckles one at a time, knowing full well she’s already awake.“Feeling better, Laur?” Tasha’s voice is hoarse from exhaustion, but her eyes are alert. She’d know if Laura’s lying, so Laura pauses, taking her time to figure out the truth. When she nods, she’s being honest.Today isn’t as bad as yesterday.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Marvel Polyship Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685938
Comments: 17
Kudos: 52
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020





	Stars Shining Bright

Laura will admit to jealousy one day. 

Her gut churns with bile, watching Natasha rock the baby girl to sleep. But she has long since passed being able to tell if it’s shame or envy, so Laura keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she lurks by the door and hopes to hell Tasha does not notice her. She fails. Of course, she fails. It seems to be all she does these days. And more so on days like these. _Bad Days._

“Laur…” Natasha's voice is soft, offering the squirming baby up to her. “She’s hungry now. Are you up for it?”

A part of Laura wants to grumble about her failure, but her failure had always been in her attempting to hide, so she lets it go. An even bigger part wants to say no - knows for a fact that Tasha will let her go without question. And the fact that it’s Tasha and not Clint means that the most she’ll get are neutral eyes and small smiles. If she leaves the room, the only one disappointed will be her. It’s enough.

So slowly, she walks into the nursery. She remembers arguing with Clint about the yellow on the walls. A few months ago, she carved the crib herself, so excited to gift the baby something just from her. She takes the baby into her arms, and she wonders why that excitement had gone so soon.

The doctor said that she’s getting better now. Considering how the sight of the baby used to make her puke, she believes her. But the connection between them is still fledgling despite the baby being older than six months. Exhaustion clings to Laura, and each step feels like slogging through molasses. The baby is hers though, and looking at Tasha’s hopeful eyes, Laura knows she has to try. She inches closer, and she begs whatever god there is that today, she’ll recognize her daughter as _hers_.

Natasha hastily vacates the rocking chair on the side. She guides Laura down before handing her the warmed bottle. Laura’s movements are mechanical. Baby in crook of arm. Uncap bottle. Place bottle in mouth. Latch. Suck. Finish.

Give baby away.

Laura freezes at the thought. Her stomach sinks, but the feeling is distant. As if it’s not hers. Like her body is not hers. Like the baby is not hers. There is a sharp cry somewhere. And suddenly her arms are as empty as her heart. Two footsteps in the room, one heavier than the other. Then one, the cry going farther and farther away. Belatedly, she realizes that there are hands on her face, wiping tears away. Laura did not realize she was crying.

“Breathe, Laura,” The hands are warm, but they still feel so far away. “Laura, listen to me. Follow my voice. Feel my hands?”

And Laura does feel them, on a skin that feels more and more like hers. She leans into the touch, hoping to make it more solid. Her eyes close. The voice washes over her and drowns everything else. When she opens her eyes, she meets startling green, and in a moment she recognizes the eyes of her lover.

“Hi, Laur.”

“Hey,” she says, voice hoarse and weak. “Did I go away again?”

“Just a little bit.”

“ _Fuck!”_

For once, Laura wishes she stayed away. Her body is still tingling, and it’s so hard to remain within herself. The emptiness hurts. Laura digs her nails into her thighs until Natasha weaves her fingers into Laura’s. She can feel her tears now - feel the hitch of her breath and the way the sobs shake her body. And still, the yawning emptiness is there. Frustration bubbles in her chest, and it is only Natasha’s quick hands that stop her from scratching herself bloody.

Natasha lifts her up only to slide into the chair and settle Laura on her lap. She tucks Laura’s head under her chin and lets her sob onto her chest. She mutters sweet nothings into Laura’s hair, and it takes everything in Laura not to scream herself hoarse. The kindness feels so goddamn raw that scraping her skin off might actually hurt less than this. 

The hopelessness has settled deep into her bones, and she can’t shake the exhaustion that always follows. Which is goddamn rich because she can’t even finish a _single_ fucking feeding without losing her shit. Cannot _hold_ the goddamn baby without losing her mind. Even the former child assassin seems to be better at motherhood than she is.

She is so _fucking_ tired. Of everything.

“I’m sorry.” Her apologies are met with shushes, and on a good day, she’d have bitterly chuckled. Today, she doesn’t even have the energy for that much. There is no comfort in Natasha’s arms. There is another set of hands too - bigger and rougher but just as gentle. Not gentle enough. Each touch feels like sandpaper, and she feels like bile and acid corroding her own goddamn family. 

And fuck it, she wishes she can feel something other than _sorry._

\-------

Laura sleeps the day away. When she wakes up, there is a hand in hers much too small to be her lovers. She blinks the sleep out of her eyes only to spot her 4-year-old son intently gripping her hand. He glares at it with a hawk-like intensity, so similar to that of his father’s. On days that are not today, it would have been adorable. But because it is today, Laura can only ask why.

“Mama Nat said that touch might be good for you,” Cooper says. “But you cry when daddy and mama hug you, so I thought holding your hand might be better?”

He looks up at her then, uncertainty in his eyes. Laura’s heart breaks, and she curses herself for ever putting that much weight on her baby boy’s shoulders. So even if breathing still takes too much energy, she pulls herself up and grabs Cooper into a bear hug so huge, she hears him go _oof_ before going still. 

She feels the tears into her eyes again. _Fuck_ , she is so tired of crying. But Cooper’s words ring in her head, so she fights against their fall. Can’t ever let him think that _his_ hugs made her cry. The sobs won’t stop building though, and she’s lived like this shell of a person long enough to know that they will only get bigger and bigger until she explodes. Fuck, those explosions hurt.

“Coop?” The voice from the door is deep but gentle. “Baby Lila’s awake. You wanna go h-”

“Yes!” Cooper shouts even before Clint finishes his sentence. He scrambles off Laura’s lap already running off. Then he pauses by the door. He looks back, guilt now warring with the uncertainty. “Mommy, will you be okay? I won’t be gone long.”

God, how many more times can her heart shatter in under 10 minutes?

“Of course, honey!” She forces cheer in her voice and hopes to hell he doesn’t notice. “See, daddy’s here and he’s got a tray of my favorite food!”

There’s a beat. Then Cooper looks Clint up and down as if inspecting his very soul. Clint offers the tray for his son to investigate, and apparently it passes muster because the little boy nods. Cooper runs back to Laura for a kiss before dashing outside.

“He gets his chivalry from me,” Clint says. “See him be a tiny gentleman.”

He takes his son’s place at the side of the bed and pecks Laura on the lips before setting his tray down. When he looks, his smile is soft, eyes much softer, and as frustrated as Laura is, a part of her just melts. Like always.

“Hi, love,” Clint says, presenting the tray like a goddamn showman. “What are you up for today?”

“That’s a lot of food you’re planning to feed me.” And indeed, the tray is piled high with soup and loaves of bread and at least three kinds of fruit. Privately, Laura thinks her lovers are overcompensating just a little. Another wave of bitterness bubbles in her chest - she can’t even just be fucking _grateful._

“Hey now.” Clint takes her chin, and her look into his eyes still filled with that insufferable softness. “I’m not sure what those bad thoughts are, but I can say for sure that they’re lying to you.”

He kisses her again, and a sob breaks out from Laura’s chest. _God-fucking-dammit…_

“I love you.” He picks up a piece of bread, dips it in soup, and places it on her lips. Laura hesitates even as her stomach rumbles. The very idea of eating makes her nauseous. Food has tasted like sawdust for months now, but Clint’s expression is open and oh so hopeful, that Laura indulges him. Her stomach rebels still, but for the first time in months, there is _flavor_. 

And fuck, she wants to cry again, but thank goodness it’s because of something good.

“I’m not sick, you know?”

“You are, love.” His mouth is full of bread, stealing from her plate just like always. “It’s just a different kinda sick y’know? It’s like when Tasha kinda goes blank on bad days. Or when you drop a plate, and I panic.”

“It’s not the same… I’m… It’s just… UGH!” Laura growls. She rubs at her eyes until she sees stars, and curses herself for the tears she feels are falling. Clint talks as if what’s happening to her is in any way comparable to the way he and Tasha hurt. But it’s not. It’s not the same. She’s just weak. And stupid. And - FUCK!

“Laura, stop! Love, please!” Clint grabs her hands. He laces their fingers together before setting the tray aside and scooting closer. He rests her head on his shoulder, rocking her gently the same way Tasha did only an hour ago. Fuck. Not again.

“I know - I _know_ you think it isn’t the same. But love, it is.” His voice is so earnest, it cracks something within her chest. There are shards of glass in her stomach, and they tear away at her guts until everything inside her is bloody and raw. But she doesn’t tell Clint to stop. The despair is still right under her skin, and his voice dulls the glass in her guts. She believes him - even if everything within rages against the very idea that she can still be loved.

“You’re going through something hard, and you’re being so brave like always. And we love you so much, me and Tasha and Cooper and even Li- the baby!” His slip makes her heart skip just a moment, but he covers it with a kiss and plows on as if nothing ever happened. And his conviction drags her with him and far away from the self-loathing threatening to bubble up again. So Laura keeps listening. “We’re here for you, and we’ll get through this together. Just like we always have.”

“I’m a mess, Clint.” She sags against him, anger evaporating just as quickly as it set itself into her bones. Her body aches with exhaustion. God, she doesn’t remember what rested feels like, but oh does she long for it. 

“Today’s just a bad mental health day, love.” He kisses her forehead. Laura leans to his kiss, wanting the touch to linger. She sighs. “We’ll get through this one like we did the last one.”

When Laura finally settles again, Clint goes back to spooning soup for her. Her limbs feel too heavy, and her appetite has tanked, but her stomach doesn’t protest the light soup. It is only when the bowl is half done that she recognizes the green shchi Natasha loves to cook when one of them is sick. Suddenly, a warmth rises in her chest, and it shocks her enough to pause before just giving in and relishing in it.

“You alright, love?” Of course he notices. “You full?”

Laura only nods. She drinks her medicine with a huge spoonful of soup before snuggling closer to him. Clint sets the bowl aside again. The tray is still filled with food, but watching Clint settle beside her, she understands that he is settling in for the long haul this afternoon. It won’t be long before the tray empties. Given that the last of the food left is almost all cookies - that might have been the point in the first place. Laura sighs before snorting. The plan has Tasha written all over it, and suddenly, the emptiness of her other side aches. 

“Nat wants to go stare at stars tomorrow night,” he whispers to her hair - on a good day, she’d tease him for being a mind reader. “If you’re up for it, I hear there’d be a meteor shower.” 

“Maybe.” She never knows how long bad periods last. Going out sounds exhausting, but she admits that everything is exhausting these days. “I’d love that. I got snot all over Tasha a while ago. Kinda got snot on you too, now that I think about it.”

Clint chuckles, and Laura lets the vibrations of his chest wash over her. She can’t laugh just yet, but she feels a smile curl around her lips. The morning feels so far away now. The guilt threatens to overwhelm her still. But Clint is still kissing her hair, and the smell of Tasha’s cookies are still in the air.

Laura sleeps.

\-------

When Laura wakes up the next day, her bones feel much lighter.

She takes in a deep breath, just relishing how easily her lungs fill today. Clint’s breath tickles her neck, and she amazes herself when she snorts with laughter. Their legs are tangled together, and Clint only moves closer every time Laura tries to squirm away. Tasha is on the far side, but her pinkie is hooked with Laura’s, and the baby monitor is clutched tightly to her chest. There are dark circles under her eyes, and Laura wonders if Tasha stayed up all night - if she stays up every _single_ time she’s on baby duty. (Immediately, Laura knows the answer is _yes_.)

Laura curls deeper into Clint’s embrace, and she kisses Tasha’s knuckles one at a time, knowing full well she’s already awake.

“Feeling better, Laur?” Tasha’s voice is hoarse from exhaustion, but her eyes are alert. She’d know if Laura’s lying, so Laura pauses, taking her time to figure out the truth. When she nods, she’s being honest. 

Today isn’t as bad as yesterday.

The baby’s ( _Lila’s)_ feeding went much better. Considering that she dissociated yesterday, the bar was not very high. Her partners are clucking around her like mother hens, but the chasm between her and the baby girl right now is not as huge. The baby still doesn’t feel like hers, but her eyes are and her nose is and her ears are at least half _Laura’s._ And Laura’s head is clear enough that she’ll take the victory for what it is. Yesterday was a bad day. Today is a good one. No more, no less. 

Her partners still beam at her like morons. And she blushes like an idiot herself.

Laura is under no illusions that Clint’s speech got her all better. But it’s enough to get her through the day. She putters around the kitchen, slicing vegetables and fruits. And then chucking them at Tasha’s head when she won’t stop fussing. She gets the go signal to make dinner. Bathing the kids is still too much, and sometimes, her energy sags during the day. But she gets to do the bedtime stories, and she considers it a victory. 

Tucking Cooper into his blanket, the weight on her shoulders lightens just a bit. She can still do this. Can still tell two stories and do the voices he likes so much. There is still a twinge of guilt at not being able to do the same for the bab- _Lila_ , but she can hold her now. The frustration still simmers in her bones, but she is finally lucid enough to remember to be kind and patient with herself. She breathes. She takes it.

She spots Tasha by the door, her eyes so soft Laura’s heart squeezes hard. The past months have been a single blur of single-word sentences. 

Eat. Cry. Drink. Sleep. Repeat.

She had no energy to spare - not to watch, let alone appreciate, the way the world spun. But she can now. She’s awake now. And she sees the tiredness in Tasha’s eyes, but she also sees their relief and hope, and the way the bright green dances and sparkles in the light. Tasha has always been beautiful but never more so when she’s all loose and soft like this, pajamas and bubble stains only adding to the allure. Laura loves her. 

Laura _loves_ her, and oh, how wonderful it is to feel _love_ again.

“Taking a picture will last longer, you know?” she says, teasing. (She can tease now!)

“Nah,” Tasha hugs her from behind, kissing the nape of her neck, “Pictures never do you justice, Laur. We all know this.”

They just sway like this for a moment, content to watch Cooper snore in his sleep. There’s tension in the lines of Tasha’s body, and Laura knows the questions coming even before she even asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“What?”

“No playing dumb, Tash.” Laura turns around. Tucks herself under Tasha’s chin. Closes her eyes. Inhales. Tasha still smells like cookies. “You were about to ask if I’m okay with coming tonight. Complete with a thousand and one assurances that it’s fine if I’m not. And honestly? I’m kinda sick of that question as much as I love you for asking.”

The emptiness from yesterday still lingers, but her medicine has finally kicked in, and Laura feels much more present now. The naps with Clint had helped with her exhaustion, and all the food Tasha’s been feeding her has done its work. It’s not perfect, but she knows for a fact that both her partners will have her in bed by 11 at most, and the fresh air can only help. She sighs.

“The doc said I’m getting better, and I know yesterday was scary...” Laura moves back a bit. She pauses for a moment to give Tasha time to make sure she’s really fine. “But I do feel much better today. I wasn’t lying to you this morning.”

And then Laura reaches up oh so slowly, leaving long, lingering kisses on Tasha’s jaw. Up her neck. And finally, leaving a wonderful, sensual kiss on her lips. Laura feels Tasha melt in her arms, and dear god, the triumph is sweet. They part for breath, and there’s a single tear sliding down Tasha’s cheek. 

Laura kisses that away too, “Yes, I want to watch the stars with you tonight.”

“If you keep this up I don’t think we’re going to get all that much watching done.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad.”

“Clint’s going to pout at you.” 

Laura snorts, and she feels Tasha’s body vibrate from all the chuckles she’s holding back. 

“He’s prepped a huge picnic basket for us. With all of your favorite snacks.”

“Yeah?” She rests her head on Tasha’s breast again, and Tasha’s hands rub her back like always. “Even the terrible ones?”

“Especially the terrible ones.” Tasha’s lips linger on her hair, and Laura shivers. “The skies are beautiful tonight.”

Laura can only nod and kiss Tasha deeper. She’ll get Clint later.

\-------

Tasha was not kidding about the picnic. 

Smackdab in the middle of their yard, Clint lies in the middle of an oversized blanket with his favorite oversized basket. It’s overflowing with goods just like most of his breakfast trays, but this time the idea seems to be clearly his. The basket overflows with huge packs of chips and dozens of different sandwiches. There’s a set of garish and tacky thermoses by his feet - pink for her, red for Tasha, purple for him - and Laura can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of her.

There are two sharp intakes of breath, but she’s already doubled over, tears running down her cheeks. Her cheeks and stomach hurt, and she can’t breathe. But she can’t stop either, and the euphoria just swallows her whole. She stumbles to the mat straight into Clint’s arms. He sits up to catch her, and Laura continues her laughter sitting on his lap. 

“‘M sorry!” She gasps out, trying to regain her dignity and failing very badly. “The thermoses are so goddamn ugly!”

“ _Ugly_?” Clint and Tasha exclaim together.

“Excuse you!” Clint fakes offense, but his wide grin is clear in his voice. “Those are made with love!”

“He almost covered them with sparkles.!” There are cracks in Tasha’s voice, watery but oh so soft, Laura’s heart aches. “I saved you from unimaginable horror!”

“We’re going _stargazing!”_

“And the glitter was meant to be stars? On bright pink skies?!”

“You have no taste, Tash!” He whips to Laura, eyes somehow both blazing and pleading at the same time. “Back me up, Love! Tash has no taste whatsoever!”

And Laura only laughs harder. Whatever dignity she’s managed to save, it’s all gone now. Her heart is so full of happiness she didn’t think she’d ever feel again. She pulls Tasha down with her, and even after she plops hard on the space beside them, Laura doesn’t let her hand go. She fishes the baby monitor from Clint’s belt, and she pauses for a moment, listening to _her_ baby snuffle in her sleep. Her partners pause too, just waiting for her, exactly as they have been for the long, past months. 

Laura sets the monitor down where they can all see it. She scoots off of Clint’s lap only to lie on Tasha’s. She hooks her ankle with Clint’s, and all the while she keeps hold of their hands. Their gun calluses have softened just a little from all the time they’ve spent homebound, but there are new wounds. From splinters and baby teeth and broken plates. The time home had made its marks on their hands too.

Tasha’s fingers comb Laura’s hair, and Clint massages her feet. He passes the hideous thermoses around, and Laura clutches hers tightly, trying to memorize its warmth. She looks up. The meteor shower has started. Here in the middle of nowhere, the stars fill the skies in ways impossible in the city. She tries to memorize that too. Tries to memorize the way her partners’ hands feel on her skin. She has no idea how she’ll feel tomorrow, but she can try and keep the echoes from tonight.

The hole in her chest is still a huge yawning chasm with edges so sharp, it hurts to breathe sometimes. But right now, curled in between her partners under a gorgeous meteor shower, she knows for a fact that love is filling that hole, slowly but surely. Life is far from perfect, but at least the glass isn’t as sharp as it was before. She’ll take the victory.

And Tasha’s right. The stars are beautiful tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to littlejeanniebean and queenofalotofworlds for reading through this story and helping me fix the kinks!


End file.
